Max & Lessons That Came Later!
This puppy reminds me of what Max looked like at that age so many years ago.
People have been asking me to share some of my stories about the dogs I've known over the years, and I thought I'd start with Max, the first dog I had on my own in my first rented place. One of my childhood nightmares had always been about adults trying to take my dog away from me. In those dreams, I would devise all kinds of extraordinary escape plans to outsmart whoever was after us. I'd head for the woods, a place I've always loved, where my dog and I could survive in the wilderness if need be. Nobody was getting my dog, at least not without a fight! But as the story goes...
During my late teens, I'd already had my first apprenticeship working with German Shepherds under Ilsa Kopetz, who bred, imported and showed world top dogs. I had also apprenticed with Lionel Ineson and spent a winter working with Siberian Huskies, another breed I had a great passion for and would eventually breed and show myself. But I missed being around those incredible Shepherds terribly and so wanted one of my own. One I could keep forever. So when I turned 20 I moved to Chatham, Ontario, and was in my first rented apartment when Max just happened along. He was a four-month-old German Shepherd puppy whose owners didn't want to keep him. They said he was aggressive and barked at them. I paid $75 for him and I was over the moon. Here I was an adult with my own dog and my own place. What could be any finer than that.
And what a dog Max was! So clever, crafty and energetic, and had that good measure of sassy too, which may well explain why his first home couldn't keep him. (Backyard breeder for sure. Had he come from a responsible breeder, there would likely have been a contract requiring his return rather than having him passed along to someone else. And they would have seen that his first owners had the assistance they needed...) He was an amazing buddy, but looking back, I realize that responsible dog ownership goes well beyond feeding, training and loving them. Life changes, sometimes unexpectedly, and our dogs don't get to make those decisions for themselves, do they? They depend on us to think ahead and look out for them throughout their lives.
He certainly knew how to entertain himself. One of his favourite games was playing with a large ball in the bathtub while I ran a little cold water for him. He absolutely lived for it, and I thought it was a wonderful way to keep him amused so I could do what young women do: talk on the phone!
One day, I went out to buy groceries and stopped for coffee with a friend. Max decided, "Why not make myself some entertainment?" When I got home, I discovered a wet and very happy dog. He'd collected my pillow, socks, an apple core and anything else of mine he could find and dumped them all into the bathtub. Then he'd managed to paw the taps on full and used his paws to push whatever he could down the drain to plug it. What a riot he obviously had! Thankfully, it was still the cold water tap! The bathtub overflowed, the carpets throughout the apartment were soaked, and Max had started pulling them up in his fun too. Fortunately, I repeat it was on the ground floor! Looking back, I can appreciate why landlords sometimes have reservations about renting to people with dogs, especially young people. Although, in poor Max's defence, I don't believe the lease specifically prohibited indoor swimming pools!
That summer, I moved back home to Muskoka with Max, as young people often do. Life became a great deal more enjoyable for both of us. Every day, before or after my shift at a summer job, I would borrow my friend's little horse, Lucky, who was boarded nearby, and ride bareback along the woodland trails to tire out Max, Lucky and me too! We always finished with a refreshing swim at the beach by the Government Dock in Hillside. So much fun for all three of us! Sometimes, under the moonlight, I'd ride Lucky straight into that mirrored lake, Max running alongside, breaking the stillness with great splashes and making waves around us! Then, as the water deepened, Lucky would begin swimming and we'd glide along with Max smoothly swimming beside us. Such memories now! Lucky wasn't a big horse, more like a really large pony. Lucky would swim with only his face and nostrils above the water while I held on, enjoying the ride. Those were the days and nights! I thought I was living the dream, with my dog and a horse to ride! I remember that feeling as though life couldn't possibly get much better. Awh youth, eh? I guess we made quite an impression, though, because one day a new sign appeared at the beach: "No dogs or horses allowed." I couldn't help wondering if they had us in mind. Who did poop and scoop back in the day then?
Then, like many young people did, I went to work in Toronto and came back a couple of days a week. Max stayed in Muskoka with my sister, her husband and their young children, all of whom he already knew. He became part of her husband's larger family too, and was loved by them all. It wasn't easy leaving Max behind. My heart was breaking, but I couldn't take him, and believed staying in Muskoka with people he knew and loved would be a better life than the uncertainty of mine. All those years dreaming up ways to keep anyone from taking my dog away, and here I was, having to leave the dog I loved behind. I knew why I was making that decision, but it would take many more years to appreciate just how complicated love and responsibility can sometimes be. And knowing I could still visit him made it seem a better if not perfect choice for me.
The thing was, Max seemed to keep a special connection with me, even after we'd been apart for quite some time. About an hour before I arrived in Huntsville, he'd start telling everyone I was coming, even when I hadn't told anyone human I was on my way north. His family would know to expect me because Max had already announced my impending arrival. I can't explain it, but it happened often enough that they came to recognize the signs. Perhaps he was flooded with more than a love of water, maybe he had some deep telepathic skills! I'd learned not to underestimate what Max was capable of! I'd love to understand just how deep those extra senses go, and that invisible thread that seems to snap into place as we close the miles between us. I see this at my cage free resort too. Our guest dogs are living in the now. They're not spending their days sitting around missing their owners or watching the clock like they would if they were sitting at home missing their people. They're busy enjoying being dogs! So much to do, and once their nervous energy is out, they are all having fun. But then there are some dogs like Max who sense their owners are en route to pick them up an hour or so before. How cool is that, eh?
When I was 24, I moved to Alberta to apprentice under Elaine Mitchell, an internationally successful all-breed professional dog handler who showed some of the top dogs in Canada and the United States. I said goodbye to him at Christmas, and Max remained in Muskoka with people who knew and loved him. He lived to be approximately 10 years old. By the time I returned to Ontario years later to open Happy Tails, he had been gone for quite some time. I never saw that wonderful boy again, but I remember him dearly. So do the people who continued to share his life.
There are a few things about this time in life with Max I could never fully explain then, and maybe still can't fully now. Especially to my landlord about the plumbing!
Foot Note: A little more about responsible ownership
Max's story reminds me that loving and caring for a dog is only part of the responsibility. Life changes, and sometimes dogs lose their homes through circumstances beyond their control. That's why I believe responsible breeders, particularly those well connected within their breeds, have an important role in helping dogs find suitable homes throughout their lives. If rescue is your thing, a reputable rescue will take the dog back, but the sad thing is too many rescued dogs are recycled over and over again. They are passed from rescue to rescue, foster to foster, as we have overwhelmed our genuine Animal Welfare resources.
Today, in case of something unforeseen, I've made arrangements for all five of my dogs, taking into account their individual ages and needs, so they'll be best cared for should anything happen to me. My two seniors came from the Guelph Humane Society, where they'd spent a long time before I adopted them. They've already had more than enough changes in their lives, and I owe it to them not to put them through that again. They're happy old dogs, enjoying their remaining years here at the resort, and that's how I want them to spend the rest of their days. My three younger dogs have reputable breeders with connections throughout their breed communities who would take immediate responsibility for them to find them breed-suitable homes.